


Ain't No Mountain High Enough

by BeanieBaby



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Gen, GotG Vol.2 Spoilers, Humor, Peter worries alot, Peter's Daddy Issues, Possessive Behavior, Team as Family, Whole team looks out for Papa Yondu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-10-29 19:36:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10860663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeanieBaby/pseuds/BeanieBaby
Summary: I kept him ‘cause he’s small and fits into spaces others can’t. Good for thievin'.It’s the truth because Peter fits perfectly in that gaping black hole inside Yondu’s chest. He's just too much of a coward to admit it.(Post GotG Vol. 2 Fix-it.)





	1. Yondu

**Author's Note:**

> I just had to write something. The movie gave me too many feels. *Muffles ugly sobs into a pillow*
> 
> This fic assumes Nebula stays.
> 
> Chronology of the chapters (just in case it's confusing): The first chapter is a hugely broad one covering the events of both chapter 2, 3 and 4. So basically Peter's, Rocket's, and Gamora's POV are from events that happened in between the events in chapter 1. I hadn't planned on elaborating this into a multi-chaptered fic at first.

He should’ve died, but by some goddamn cosmic irony, he doesn’t.

Instead, Yondu wakes up to the hideous sight of Peter’s splotchy red face bent over him, snot and tears dribbling down his chin in copious amounts. His boy is rocking to and fro, one hot hand cradling Yondu’s numb cheek, whispering something Yondu can’t hear past the loud ringing noise in his ear.

“…what the...hell, boy...” He summons all the remaining energy left and swats irritably at Peter’s stupid face with his left hand, but it ends up catching in Peter’s collar and his idiot kid flinches so hard he almost head-butts Yondu back into oblivion, which in hind sight would’ve been the preferred option.

“Oh my god, I’ve got you, Yondu. You’re going to be ok,” Peter catches Yondu’s hand tightly in his, and to Ravager captain's fascinated horror, lifts their entwined fingers to his tear-covered cheek and says in a nauseatingly sappy voice, “we’re both going to be ok.”

Before Yondu can reach for his Yaka arrow, Peter presses a loud wet kiss to the top of his head and turns to the faces swimming unsteadily at the edge of Yondu’s flickering vision and says, “My dad’s alive!”

The words are greeted with a deafening cheer, and one face floats into focus above them. Yondu blinks blearily at Stakar’s smirk.

“Ya' done did good, old friend,” Ogord says.

Peter, still red and sweaty in the face but beaming like the first time Yondu complimented him on his aim all those years ago, pulls the injured Ravager captain close to his chest and whispers, “Get some rest. Everything’s going to be alright.”

Yondu shuts his eyes and does just that.

 

* * *

 

For his valor and sacrifice, Stakar welcomes Yondu back to the Ravager clan with open arms. It doesn’t feel right. The surreal situation makes him feel uneasy, like its something out of a sick dream, give him what he craves at the bottom of his heart only to rip it away when he least expects it. Yondu accepts Ogord's invitation, but decides to put off meeting with the rest of his old team for as long as possible. He needs to think things over and scrape together a team of misfits again, preferably one he doesn’t have to burn and kill within two weeks.

The thing with Peter, Yondu decides, is a strange fluke, something his severely oxygen-deprived brain hallucinated, because the dumbass kid would never in a million years call Yondu his father, and never to a roomful of Ravagers and his space friends.

Except-

“Looks like you’re finally up and about,” Peter says cheerfully when Yondu shaves off the week-old fuzz growing on the lower part of his face and pulls his Ravager overcoat back on after being unwillingly subjected to a week’s bedrest.

“You heading out?” Peter asks, feigning casual conversation. Yondu grunts and jerks his collar up.

“Overheard Krags telling Gamora y’all are going out to recruit folks,” The boy persists. “Mind if I tag along?”

The question makes Yondu laugh. The sound echoes, cracked and wheezy, in the small washroom. He wipes his hands clean and says, “since when do you ask to come along with me, boy? Last I recall, you couldn’t get far enough. Whatsshat you used to say, whole galaxy ain’t big enough to put between you and me?”

“I was a kid, didn’t mean none of the shit I said,” Quill’s voice cracks a little and Yondu straightens, sharp eyes catching sight of Peter’s somewhat red-rimmed ones through the reflection in the grimy cracked mirror. Yondu crosses over to him in two long strides, grabs the stupid kid by the ear and twists hard, watching with grim satisfaction the moisture seep out of his eyes for a whole different reason. “Owww, what the hell, Yondu? Let go!”

“What’d I say, boy? Huh?” He shakes Peter like a dog, bares his crooked teeth in Peter’s face and spits out, “Ravagers don’t cry like babies.”

“Ok, ok, I get it, you grumpy old fart.” Peter’s annoyed voice still sounds too affectionate for Yondu’s liking, but Kraglin takes that moment to appear at the door, grinning and practically bouncing with excitement.

“Ready to head out, Capt'n?” He asks, putting a heavy emphasis on the word.

Yondu rolls his eyes, valiantly ignores the kicked-puppy expression on his grown-ass kid’s face, and shoves roughly past his first-mate. At least Peter doesn’t try to call him “dad” again. Yondu might just barf if he hears it one more time, imagination or not.

 

* * *

 

Things get weird again in a bar on Knowhere.

Peter had insisted someone other than Kraglin tag along with him when Yondu put his foot down and flat out refused to let Peter go, so the green one and her blue-skinned sister came instead. He forgets about their presence after two drinks.

Yondu doesn’t know if word had gotten out about him joining Ogord’s lot again, but the recruitment process has gone strangely smoothly. He’s rounded up a group of eager men, not too bright by the looks of it, but Kraglin agrees this lot'll have to do for now. Yondu’s got a lot of shit to fix and steal before they can get back to their old status and he won’t be too hung up about it if a handful of the new recruits die before that happens.

He’s about to head out for the night when one of his new recruits, a huge burly fish-faced humanoid mutters, “so from now on we’re taking orders from a Kree slave?”

The room quiets immediately, all eyes turning to Yondu who drains his glass and stands slowly.

“What’d you just say, sonny?” He reaches for the flap of his coat, but before the fish-man or Yondu can act, a knife flies out of nowhere and embeds itself in the troublemaker’s throat.

Yondu blinks, taken aback. Fish-Face is clawing frantically at the slimy blue liquid pouring from the wound when Peter’s little green girlfriend pushes her way past a stunned Kraglin, her sister not two steps behind. She pulls the blade out of the gushing wound and wipes it on the man’s twitching shoulder.

Smiling thinly, Gamora turns to the silent crowd, “next person to speak ill of your captain won’t get off so easily.”

There’s a wet crack and Nebula lets the body slide slowly to the filthy ground, the head twisted at a strange angle, its eyes bulging in their sockets. She crosses her arms and aims that dead soulless stare at Yondu’s new recruits.

“Hell,” Yondu whistles, impressed. Kraglin gulps.

His good mood gets soiled almost immediately. The bartender tells him the drinks are on the house. Apparently, they refuse to accept payment from Star-Lord’s old man.

Peter looks incredibly proud of himself when Yondu stomps back to their ship with his new crew in tow.

“I made dinner!” The stupid kid yells happily. Behind him, smoke, thick and a worrying shade of purple, billows. There’s a sharp smell of burning rubber permeating the air. Kraglin gags and covers his nose and mouth.

“Abandon ship!!!” The rodent yells somewhere from within the smoke.

Yondu decides that he’s not very hungry.

 

* * *

 

They ban Peter from the kitchen. It’s a unanimous vote, 32 against 1.

His kid throws a fit and attempts to protest by crawling into the air-duct like he used to.

He gets stuck.

Yondu laughs himself sick and leaves the boy to squirm for two hours before ordering his men to drag him out by his ankles.

 

* * *

 

The Ravager ship feels somehow fuller with Peter there.

But most likely, it’s because Yondu’s missing two-thirds of his actual ship.

The thing is, Peter doesn’t seem inclined to secure a new ship of his own and leave anytime soon, and that poses a problem for Yondu. He’s gotten used to the kid high-tailing it off of whatever planet the Ravagers are headed to, he’s gotten used to the kid spitting insults at his face, telling him how much he hates Yondu, but this current situation he can’t stand.

He can’t stand the way Peter smiles at him now, like how he used to when he was barely as tall as the rodent on board. It reminds Yondu of the old days, when Peter hung onto every word he said and thought Yondu was the coolest person in the entire galaxy. Peter's like N'Iran weed. Give him an ounce of affection and he spreads like wildfire, consuming everything in sight. The amount of worship and adoration in those brilliant blue eyes had squeezed the air from Yondu's lungs and shaken him to his core because the truth is, he deserves none of it. Yondu's not the handsome, swashbuckling Robin Hood Peter keeps comparing him to, he's a savage space pirate who'd snatched the stupid kid away from his family for money. 

So he had taken the coward's way out and threatened to feed Peter to his crew, screamed at him and pushed him away because he'd rather be on the receiving end of the kid's resentment than anything that remotely resembled love. Men like Yondu didn't deserve something that pure.

But by some miracle, that scrawny little Terran boy who'd bravely worn his heart on his sleeve managed to survive amongst Yondu and his nasty-ass band of scumbags. 

Yondu's so goddamn proud of what his boy has grown up to be despite the shitty circumstances. And somehow along the way, he'd become Yondu's kid. 

 _His_ _son_.

His kickass little Star-Lord. 

 

* * *

 

_I kept him ‘cause he’s small and fits into spaces others can’t. Good for thieving._

It’s the truth because Peter fits perfectly in that gaping black hole inside Yondu’s chest.

Too bad he’s too much of a fucking coward to admit it.


	2. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “But there is still so much love,” Mantis breathes, her eyes transfixed on the still figure. Her fingers flutter to land over Yondu’s heart, antennas glowing a soft pale gold. 
> 
> “In here,” she says, turning to Peter with those big soft doe eyes. They fill with moisture as she says, “for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a sort of flashback chapter from Peter's POV.

The first night is pure torture.

Peter’s skin burns with an imaginary itch. He’s restless, unable to take his eyes or hands off of the unconscious Ravager captain lying in sickbay. Peter doesn’t comprehend half of the shit Stakar Ogord says to him before departing with his wife, and it’s only after when Gamora tells him that the Arcturan had promised that the rest of the Ravager clan would safeguard their ship from the gold people until Yondu recovered.

“Peter,” Gamora puts her hand on his arm, her voice uncharacteristically gentle.

“I’m not leavin’ his side,” Peter insists stubbornly, never letting his eyes stray from Yondu’s ashen face.

“I know,” She says, and he hears the sharp drag of chair legs against the floor. “Here, sit. Kraglin and I’ll take care of things outside. You stay and watch over him, ok?”

Peter grunts. Gamora hesitates for a moment, then, to his surprise, she presses a gentle comforting kiss to his left temple. She’s gone before he has time to speak.

Despite his stubborn attempt to stay awake, Peter nods off.

When he finally stirs, he finds that he’d half-crawled onto Yondu’s cot, because Peter’s head is pillowed against his old man’s shoulder, a shining trail of drool gleaming wetly on the Ravager captain's leathers. He clears his throat and wipes it off hurriedly.

Someone giggles.

Shooting up so fast he cracks his neck, Peter blinks at the sight of Mantis, her pretty face scrubbed clean of dirt and wearing what looked like Gamora’s spare clothes, seated on the bio-bed. He frowns, about to demand why she’s here, but Mantis presses a thin finger to her lips and shakes her head at him. Peter watches dubiously as Mantis lays her other hand over Yondu’s sweaty brow and closes her eyes in concentration. Yondu relaxes under the touch, his scowl easing into something more serene.

“Wha-” Peter croaks hoarsely.

“I took away his nightmares,” She tells him with a beaming smile, and Peter thinks if she had a tail, it would be wagging at hyper speed.

“Oh, right. Uh, thanks Mantis.” Peter clears his throat, feeling a bit embarrassed about his overprotectiveness. He rubs a hand over his face and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to clear his sleep-muddled brain.

“He has had a hard life,” Mantis breaks the silence. Peter looks up to see her trace a fascinated finger over the smattering of light-blue scars across the right side of Yondu’s face.

“Yeah, he has, but he’s a tough old bastard,” Peter agrees, remembering what Rocket had told him about how Stakar had freed Yondu from the Kree, about how Yondu had been a battle slave for more than twenty years, and about how his parents had just sold him like a piece of meat.

“But there is still so much love,” Mantis breathes, her eyes transfixed on the still figure. Her fingers flutter to land over Yondu’s heart, antennas glowing a soft pale gold.

“In here,” she says, turning to Peter with those big soft doe eyes. They fill with moisture as she says, “for you.”

Peter feels his throat close at the words, the hot stinging burn behind his eyes he’d valiantly tried to suppress coming back with a vengeance. He blinks rapidly and breaks eye-contact.

“Not the sexual kind, I hope,” He jokes half-heartedly.

Mantis cocks her head to the side and seems to actually consider the idea seriously. Her silence is starting to freak Peter out for real when she finally speaks, “no, it’s the same kind of love Drax feels for his daughter.”

“It is beautiful,” Mantis declares. Her eyelids flutter shut, a happy smile spreading across her face, “I have never seen anything more breathtaking. Here.”

She extends her hand to Peter. He hesitates, not sure whether he should take it. It seems such a private thing, Yondu’s most vulnerable secret laid out for everyone to see.

“For you, and no one else,” Mantis assures him, sensing his trepidation. Swallowing, Peter slips his fingers into her palm.

It feels a little bit like staring into the sun, like flying through space with his Walkman blasting at full volume, like when he’d first learned to fly his own ship, that initial euphoric liftoff still tingling in his belly. The memories that surface make Peter's head spin, and from within the chaos of flashing colors and emotion, he feels an overwhelming, fierce pride. Yondu’s pride, for him, for Peter.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Mantis breaks the contact to wipe the salty tears spilling from Peter’s eyes. He shudders, wrapping his fingers around her delicate wrist and holding on for dear life. When he looks up, she’s crying freely, too.

“Ego was not your father,” Mantis whispers, her fingers warm against Peter’s cheek.

“No, he wasn’t,” He agrees and closes his eyes.

 

* * *

 

“What do you have there?” Peter calls out to Gamora when she passes by the door sickbay with a basket of something clutched tightly to her chest the next morning.

“Yaro roots,” Gamora says, her lips lifting in a rare smile.

“They’re finally ripe?” Peter asks and her expression softens.

“Yeah, they are.”

 

* * *

 

On the third day, Kraglin pulls Peter out into the hallway. He’d been taking care of things on Stakar and the Ravager’s side and hadn't had time to pop into sickbay very often.

“Capt’n doin’ ok?” He asks gruffly.

“Yeah, he’s not feverish anymore. The monitor predicts he might even wake in a couple of days,” Peter says, stretching and wincing as his neck cracked. He’d taken to sleeping on one of the broken bio-bed that had, unfortunately, lacked a cushiony surface.

“Well, I just wanted to come by and give this to ya, Peter,” Kraglin pulls something from his pocket and hands it over, “took me a while to find it in all the mess, had to get your raccoon friend and the little tree to help out.”

“What is it?” Peter stares down at the shiny black thing with interest.

“It’s called a Zune. It’s what everybody’s listening to on Earth nowadays, ’s got 300 songs on it,” Kraglin explains, “Capt’n picked it up from a junker shop a while back. Cost us an arm and a leg, but he wanted to get ya somethin’ in case ya ever change your mind and came back.”

Peter slumps against the doorframe and whines, “are you guys secretly all teaming up to make me cry?”

Kraglin raises an eyebrow at him, “don’t know about no secret plot, but I did know he loved you like a son, Pete. Just don’t go telling ‘im I told you that, or he’s gonna toss me out of the airlock.”

“Yeah, ok, pinky-swear,” Peter gives him a watery smile. Kraglin rolls his eyes, but Peter catches him shaking his head and smiling to himself when he walks away.

 _Is it possible to die from being loved so much?_ Peter wonders to himself as he drops down to sit next to Yondu’s bio-bed. He lays his head against his old man’s shoulder and puts one of the earbuds in Yondu’s ear, cramming the other one in his own. Peter closes his eyes and allows the music to wash over them.

 

* * *

 

“What the-”

“I am Groot.”

“I was gone for like five seconds to take a freakin’ piss!”

“What’s wrong?” Gamora had rushed to Peter’s side at the sound of his distress. Drax’s heavy footfalls quickly follow.

“I am Groot.”

“Oh,” Gamora covers her smile with a hand.

“More like 'holy fuck’. Oww!”

“Don’t curse in front of the infant!”

“I step outside for one minute. I come back and Yondu’s covered in flowers and leaves like freakin’ Snow White in her glass coffin or some shit. Oww, quit pinching me, Gamora!”

“He says it’ll help with the healing process,” Rocket translates as Groot crawls over Yondu’s shoulder and settles himself against the Ravager captain’s cheek.

“I am Groot,” Groot mutters, his eyelids fluttering sleepily. The tiny tree yawns and Peter raises an eyebrow at Gamora when she coos at the nauseatingly adorable scene.

“Says he misses Yondu calling him ‘Twig.’”

“Quill is just jealous,” Drax decided to be the one to point out the obvious. “He does not wish to share his father with the rest of our family.”

“What?!” Peter groans, clutching at his head and gaping at the other Guardian. "You have got to be kidding me."

“I never kid," Drax deadpans.

 

* * *

 

Groot starts camping out in sickbay along with Peter, which in turn brings in Rocket, and Rocket never goes anywhere without an accompanying half-built bomb tucked somewhere on his person. So Peter’s not really surprised when he brings a toolbox and what looked like shiny silver metal parts along with him and makes a temporary bunker beneath one of the old broken bio-beds. Groot spends the majority of his time cuddling with Yondu in their flowery “love-nest”, bopping along with Peter to his new tunes, and pestering Rocket about his recent side project.

“It ain’t done yet, go play with Quill,” Rocket says every time and ushers Groot out from under the bio-bed.

“That’d better not be something that goes boom-boom, Rocket, or I’m gonna have Gamora bring out the spray bottle again,” Peter warns. Rocket’s reply is a haphazardly thrown wrench that nearly takes out Peter’s right eye.

Stakar and his wife come to visit, accompanied by an AI by the name of Mainframe who gushes at the sheer adorableness of baby Groot and helps him make a garland of bright pink and yellow flowers for Yondu. Peter exchanges a dark look with Rocket and tries not to gag too much at all the high-pitched squealing.

He hopes Yondu wakes soon because his manhood is in critical danger.

 

* * *

 

Peter finds out that Yondu had kept boxes of his old stuff on board when Gamora happens upon them in her quest to clean up the "disgusting pigsty, God, men are so gross.”

She has Drax bring them to the sickbay for Peter, who opens every single one with a reverence akin to unearthing the Holy Grail.

“Man, I forgot about this creepy-ass doll,” Peter laughs in delight. “Yondu picked it for me from this remote planet in the M32 Galaxy and none of us knew there was a Symbiote crashing inside the thing, and it tried to suffocate Horuz in his sleep. It was hilarious to watch.”

“You were a very disturbed child, Quill. If you were born into our tribe, the elders would've fed you to the pigs,” Drax concludes, a frown on his face. Mantis, who seems to have fused with him at the hip (they're inseparable nowadays), picks up the doll curiously and runs her fingers through the tangled hair. The rest of the Guardians seem to take that as permission to rifle through Peter’s old shit. Gamora slips a mood ring onto her finger while Rocket pulls disinterestedly on the string of an old yo-yo.

“Wow, I had so much cool crap growing up,” Peter sighs happily and places Yondu’s favorite little blue crystal frog next to him on the bio-bed. He pulls the folded picture of David Hasselhoff out of his breast pocket and peers down at the faded image through the pink star-shaped sunglasses perched upon the bridge of his nose. 

“I used to tell myself that David Hasselhoff was my dad,” He says, holding the picture out for Groot to see.

He laughs quietly, “what an idiot.”

 

* * *

 

“Why’d you go and turn his bio-bed into a funeral pyre?!” Stakar Ogord exclaims when he next drops by.

Peter turns and sees the flowers, various trinkets and toys, and the candles piled around Yondu like a solid wall and scratches his head.

“Uh,” He says stupidly.

 

* * *

 

Peter catches sight of Nebula five days after the Ego incident. She doesn’t say anything to him. Neither does Peter.

Later that night, Gamora walks into sickbay and drops down to sit next to him. They’re silent for a while, Peter’s music blasting between the two of them.

Then he prompts gently, “I saw your sister today.”

She hums absently, drumming her fingers on Peter’s elbow.

“She didn’t try to rip my head off,” Peter continues.

Gamora turns her dark gaze on him, “you said that day that sometimes the thing you’ve been looking for your whole life has been by your side all along.”

Peter swallows and tries not to let his eyes stray to the figure lying on the bio-bed, “Yeah?”

“Well, Nebula’s mine,” Gamora says quietly, “and I asked her to stay.”

Peter stares at her for a long moment before asking, “what'd she say?”

A rare and fiercely bright smile appears on Gamora’s face.

“She said yes.”

 

* * *

 

Peter’s not the first person there when Yondu wakes. It’s Groot who Yondu sees first.

“Twig?” He rasps hoarsely, “where the hell am I? Where’s m’boy?”

Peter, who’d been dozing on a nearby bed, snaps awake instantly at the sound of his voice and scrambles to his feet. Yondu’s confusion seem to melt away at the sight of him, and with his defenses down and his brain muddled with sleep, Peter’s old man smiles, not that mean blood-thirsty grin he gives when threatening to toss Peter’s skinny ass to his hungry men, but one of warm relief.

“Quill,” He breathes, whole body relaxing back onto the bio-bed.

 _Son,_ Peter hears.

Eyes stinging, he grins and takes the injured Ravager captain’s hand tightly in his own.

“Yondu.”

_Dad._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied. There's one more chapter after this. Or two, depends on where I stop. 
> 
> Drop me a comment?


	3. Rocket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I didn’t rescue Quill because I wanted to prove I was better than him,” Rocket says suddenly. Then, after an uncomfortable, fidgety pause, he adds quietly, “I didn’t fix your stupid arrow for that reason, either.” 
> 
> “I know, boy,” Yondu replies and feels Rocket relax minutely, his soft fluffy tail settling tentatively against Yondu’s collar and the stiff defiance slowly leeching from his shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a drabble-ish continuation of last chapter's events. You guys' enthusiastic feedback made this possible! So, enjoy the third chapter!

Yondu’s sitting at the console alone one night when the rodent shuffles in and tosses a black bundle at him.

“What’s this?” He half-expects it to be a turd after what his kid had told him about Rocket’s sense of humor, but he unwraps it to reveal a sleek silver Yaka arrow, his old one to be precise, unbroken and whole.

“Thought you might like it back,” The rodent shrugs one furry shoulder casually. He avoids Yondu’s gaze, ears flattened to his skull in discomfort. “I took the time to add a few kickass modifications while you were out, Sleepin’ Beauty. No need to thank me.”

“Aww, I’m touched, boy,” Yondu croons, baring his crooked teeth in a sarcastic grin as Rocket’s hackles rise out of sheer habit, “got an actual tear in me glass eye.”

“Shaddap, ya old wrinkly cunt,” Rocket mutters without much heat, pulling himself up to sit on the back of Yondu’s chair, his sharp little clawed feet almost brushing the Ravager captain’s left shoulder when he settles. He jerks a paw at the little shiny trinkets lining Yondu’s chair arm, “what’s with the stupid toys anyway?”

Yondu chuckles and bops one of the figurines on the head. Rocket rolls his eyes at the bobble-head and mutters something rude under his breath. Yondu ignores him.

“When Quill was still a wee lil’ boy, he used to sit on my knee while I was commandin’ the crew. His favorite time of the day,” Yondu smacks a hand against his open thigh, grinning at the memory, “kid squirmed like a space eel, couldn’t hold still if his life depended on it, with those sharp little elbows and knees. Kept nailin’ me in the family jewels, so I started slippin' ‘im things from my pocket to play with, and-”

“-as time went on, you bought him actual toys,” Rocket finishes for him quietly.

“Well, not so much bought as nicked from various places and persons,” Yondu confesses, scratching absently at his crotch. This statement makes the rodent shake his head with a sharp laugh.

They fall silent for a while, gazing at the vast open space outside the ship.

“I didn’t rescue Quill because I wanted to prove I was better than him,” Rocket says suddenly. Then, after an uncomfortable, fidgety pause, he adds quietly, “I didn’t fix your stupid arrow for that reason, either.”

“I know, boy,” Yondu replies and feels Rocket relax minutely, his soft fluffy tail settling tentatively against Yondu’s collar and the stiff defiance slowly leeching from his shoulders.

“What the fuck is a Sleepin’ Beauty anyway?” Yondu snorts, ruining the moment, “sounds like a pussy to me.”

“It’d be a fuckin’ accurate description, then,” Rocket kicks him in the neck, sounding relieved and borderline affectionate, “how the fuck should I know. Ask Quill.”

As if on cue, Yondu's idiot kid pops up out of nowhere, sees the two of them, points an accusatory finger at them both and says, “aww man, you let Rocket sit on your shoulder? That’s not fair, I’m your real son. I demand a spot on the Udonta throne!”

“Boy, I swear,” Yondu’s eyes widen in alarm at the sight of Peter’s obnoxious grin. He doesn’t have time to yell that Rocket’s not sitting on his shoulder or that Peter needs to get his goddamn eyes fixed. “Don’t you dare-”

Quill proceeds to park his fat ass eagerly atop Yondu’s unprotected crotch.

There's a deafening crack.

_Son of a-_

 

* * *

 

“Who broke the captain’s chair?” Kraglin asks incredulously when he comes down for his first shift the next morning.

Yondu growls and narrows his red eyes at Quill, who hums and bounces on the balls of his feet, a picture of youthful innocence despite the massive shiner on his face. Yondu had accidentally elbowed him in the face when all three of them had rolled gracelessly onto the floor. The rodent, buried in the wires beneath the console, yells something insulting about Quill’s weight, which sparks another long-winded argument that has Kraglin shooting puzzled looks at Yondu.

“Rat’s right, son, ya gettin’ pudgy ‘round the middle,” Yondu agrees, smirking when Peter sputters indignantly.

“You’re not supposed to play favorites, old man!”

Yondu swats at the back of Quill’s thick-ass head with an irritated hand. “I might reconsider if ya quit standin’ around and start doin’ somethin’ useful, boy!”

He hears a muffled snicker from underneath the console. Yondu rolls his eyes.

What a bunch of idiots. Every last one of them.

 

* * *

 

The modified arrow flies like a dream.

Yondu’s seriously considering asking the kid to join the Ravagers. Quill is clearly wasting his resources.

Rocket doesn’t just stop at the arrow. He’s tinkered with half of the ship under the excuse of boredom, but more than once, Yondu's caught him whistling along to the loud shit Peter blasts over their broadcast systems while he worked. He decides not to mention it since their new engine upgrade cuts the Ravager ship's jump time to half its original.

 

* * *

 

“It’s your lucky day, blue,” Rocket invites himself and Groot into Yondu’s quarters without knocking one evening after the chair incident.

“Why’s that, rat?” The Ravager captain asks without glancing up as he flipping through the current intergalactic bounty list on his tablet, a tumbler of Krylorian wine next to him. The little tree scrambles onto Yondu’s bed and makes a beeline for his underwear drawer. Again.

“You can stop wearing your old prototype now.” Yondu looks up when the rodent sets the object down by his elbow with a loud clunk.

“What the-” Yondu’s eyes widen.

“Surprise, surprise,” Rocket smirks, sounding mighty proud of himself, “you can find literally anything on the Nova Net, including age-old Centaurian info on how to make a fin implant.”

He sets the tablet aside and unwraps the fin. It’s a hell lot flashier than what Yondu’s used to, a vivid blood-red with a dark metallic sheen to it.

“This is one fine upgrade,” He says, impressed at the craftsmanship. His parents had sold him off to the Kree before he’d been old enough to learn much about his own culture, but even Yondu can tell it’s a pretty decent fin.

“You bet your dimpled blue ass it is,” Rocket bares his canines in a sharp grin as he hops onto the unoccupied stool, “used Astran metal for the outer coating like the arrow. It’s virtually indestructible now. So, you’re fuckin' welcome.”

"Damn, boy,” Yondu whistles, “that stuff costs ten thousand units per greg.”

“Yeah, well, somebody somewhere owed me a favor,” Rocket mutters, avoiding Yondu’s eyes.

“Ya always this generous to every bastard ya meet, or is it just me?” He smirks, reclining in his seat.

“Don’t kid yourself, old man,” Rocket folds his arms over his chest, his posture defensive, “I did it ‘cause Quill’s fuckin’ hideous when he cries.”

Yondu cackles. He pours a glass of the shimmery gray alcohol for Rocket, “I'll drink to that, boy.”

Groot pops out of Yondu’s underwear drawer. “I am Groot.”

“What’s that, Twig?”

Rocket finishes his drink and hops off the stool. “He says you need to do laundry soon, you’re running low on fresh undies.”

Yondu laughs so hard he knocks the tablet off the table.

“Come on, Groot,” The rodent beckons. As they’re walking out, he adds, “holler if you need me to help you with the replacement." 

Yondu wipes his mouth on his sleeve and calls out, “hey, rat.”

Rocket pauses at the door. “What?”

“Since we’re doin’ a fuckin’ gift exchange,” Yondu fishes out the set of Ravager leathers he’d had the ship's tailor make and throws them at the rodent.

Rocket’s wearing the Ravager garb the next morning. Yondu ignores Kraglin’s double-take and smirks.

“’S a bit tight around the crotch,” The rodent announces blandly. Quill chokes on his breakfast.

Yondu throws his head back and laughs.

 

* * *

 

Yondu forgets about the new fin on his head until he goes barhopping with Stakar and his old crew for the first time since forever. His kid tags along, dispersing into the crowded bar along with his weird little Guardian friends as soon as they set foot inside. Yondu’s talking to Stakar's first-mate Martinex when the bartender, an orange-skinned Mobian, sets a drink down in front of him.

“Courtesy of the gentleman over there,” The bartender says, indicating a figure seated across the bar. It’s another Centaurian, and Yondu’s a bit taken aback. There aren’t many of his kind left and certainly not this far out in the Andromeda galaxy. Mainframe giggles and Stakar raises an amused eyebrow at Yondu, who ignore the drink and goes back to his conversation.

Quill, disgustingly sweaty and out of breath, reappears two hours later, his grin morphing into a frown when he catches sight of the rot-gut Yondu’s chugging. To the Ravager captain’s horror, the boy starts lecturing him on _his health_ of all things. Stakar, who’s watching with a glimmer of laughter in his dark eyes, suggests, “it's way past your bedtime, perhaps you should listen to Quill and retire for the night, old friend.”

Yondu feels his face heat up as his dumbass kid nods eagerly in agreement.

“Fuck you, Ogord,” He growls and stands in a rustle of leather. “I was gettin’ bored of this place anyway.”

They are heading out when a large hand snags Yondu’s forearm. He turns to find the Centaurian male who’d bought him the untouched drink grinning down at him.

“Hey, beautiful,” the guy croons, “why don’t you ditch this crowd and come with me?”

Yondu looks down at the hand around his arm.

“Oh,” The perky little insect girl Peter’d picked up on Ego’s planet sways a little on her feet. “He is very aroused,” She tells Yondu, her huge eyes wide and cheeks flushed pink, “by you.”

“If you want to keep that limb, I suggest you let go of my old man right the fuck now,” Peter snarls before Yondu can open his mouth, his hand already going to the blaster strapped to his hip.

“Haven’t seen a fin this pretty in years,” The big blue Centaurian purrs, ignoring Peter and reaching up to run a finger over the ridged implant on Yondu’s head.

“Peter, don’t-” Gamora tries to say.

“Oh, you are _so dead_ , princess!” Jerking his arm out of her hold, Peter pounces.

“Bar fight!” Drax roars happily, pulling two huge knives out of nowhere.

In the midst of the chaos, Yondu manages to catch sight of Stakar and his old team. The other Ravager captains are bent over at their table, clutching their stomachs and crying with laughter.

_Ah, Hell._

 

* * *

 

“What were you thinking, Rocket?!”

“How the fuck would I know the stupid fin was something sexual, Quill?! _He_ didn’t even know!”

“Of course he didn’t know! He got sold into slavery when he was a freakin' baby!”

“Well, _excuse me_ for trying to do something good for once, you overprotective asshole!”

“I got every right to look out for my old man!”

“What if your old man wanted to tap that, huh? You ever paused to consider that, ya overgrown cockblocker?”

“Guh...I think I’m going to be sick.”

“You better not puke on me, Quill, or it’s not going to be Drax’s colossal turd under your pillow, it’s gonna be down your goddamn throat!”

“NOT HELPING, ROCKET!”

“That’s one more place we’re permanently banned from,” Gamora sighs, massaging her aching temple. She’s still surprised that Yondu hadn’t tossed Peter out of the airlock when they’d tumbled aboard the Ravager mothership, bloodied, bruised and yelling at the top of their lungs.

“I am Groot,” Groot says quietly.

“Boys _are_ idiots,” Gamora agrees.


	4. Gamora

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Get some rest,” Yondu mutters without looking at her, “I’ll watch over ya.” 
> 
> So Gamora does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chronologically, this chapter comes after the Rocket chapter but before Yondu recruits his new crew (see chapter 1). 
> 
> AN: I felt like Gamora was conflicted about Peter finding out about his father in the second movie. She seems to want him to reconnect with Ego, but at the same time, I felt like she thought he was going to abandon them for Ego. 
> 
> So this chapter was born. 
> 
> I'm not very satisfied with it because I kind of blew my usual word limit and things tend to get muddled in my head if I write for too long. I would love to hear what you think!

“Peter, we can’t stay here forever.”

“I know, I know, Gamora. You don’t have to keep repeating yourself. I’m not deaf,” Quill’s shrugging into a shirt when she next catches him alone, his skin still red from a recent shower. He’d settled back into his old childhood quarters aboard the Ravager ship with more ease than Gamora likes.

“We have to, Peter. You don’t belong here anymore,” She keeps her voice gentle, but he exhales irritably and avoids her eyes in favor of tugging his clunky boots on.

“Have to what, dickheads?” Rocket asks, ambling toward them in his new Ravager uniform, baby Groot dressed in a similar tiny outfit perched happily on his let shoulder. Groot’s clutching one of Yondu’s dashboard toys and fiddling happily with the little robot’s arms.

Peter’s face splits into a grin at the sight. He bops Groot affectionately over the head, “that was one of my favorites too, lil’ bud.”

“Anyway, the resident blue idiot that’s not your psychopath sister wants us up on the bridge. We just received transmission that the Nova Corps' got a new errand for the Guardians,” Rocket informs them, yawning and scratching at his armpit. “Yondu wants half of the rewards.”

Surprisingly, he doesn’t sound too concerned with that idea.

Peter brightens immediately, “that means he’s willing to pitch in and help!”

“Are you sure Yondu’s not just going to rob us blind and leave us stranded on an unknown planet instead?” Gamora asks dryly. Peter gives her the stink eye, but Rocket’s the one who surprises her by muttering, “he ain’t a fuckin’ savage, Gamora. The Ravagers' got a code.”

She turns to Peter for some semblance of support but the Terran’s looking at Rocket like he’s about to burst into proud tears and declare them brothers for life.

Gamora snags him by the arm, _“Peter.”_

“Soon, Gamora,” Peter promises.

Quill's expression is incredibly fond and wistful when he takes one last lingering glance at the unmade bed and old trinkets strewn across the floor and whispers to no one in particular, “just a few more days.”

Gamora does not argue this time.

 

* * *

 

Nebula is lurking in the shadowy corner of the command room when Gamora gets there, so she smiles and walks over. Nebula watches her warily but does not move from her spot.

“We received a new mission,” Gamora says.

“I know,” Nebula replies.

“Wish me luck, sister?” Gamora asks, heart pounding.

Nebula stares at her with those fathomless black eyes for a long moment. Then, she sneers and says, “only weaklings rely on luck.”

She shoves something roughly into Gamora’s hands and walks away without another backward glance. Gamora looks down and feels contentment, thick and heavy, settle in her stomach.

It’s Nebula’s favorite knife.

She smiles and tightens her fingers over the hilt.

 

* * *

 

As it turns out, the mission is an item retrieval.

 _Cora III_ is a beautiful planet and the task is remarkably easy. Gamora doesn’t understand why the Nova Corps needs the Guardians for something so simple.

Peter’s got the rock secured in his man-purse and is in the middle of yet another pointless argument with Rocket up ahead when something at a shop stand nearby catches Gamora’s eyes. It’s a well-crafted pair of silver wrist guards, elaborate runes and patterns etched in fine detail over the shiny metal, sensible yet beautiful. She immediately thinks of her sister and wanders over to the gray-skinned old woman manning the shop.

“How much for those?” She asks a little breathlessly.

They are in the middle of haggling prices when she hears a sharp whistle and turns to see Yondu standing there with his arms crossed over his chest and an impatient expression on his scruffy face.

“Ya done laggin’ behind, girlie?” He snaps, annoyed.

Her face burns with embarrassment when he mutters that Quill and Rocket had already taken off in the other pod. Gamora pays the shop owner and quickly runs to catch up to the Ravager captain, apologizing to him for having to wait for her.

They’re both settling down in the tiny two-person craft when Yondu pulls something shiny from his pocket and sets it on the dash with a pleased smile. It’s another little toy, a sickeningly adorable kitten with big glittery blue jewels for eyes and tiny gold whiskers.

“Seriously?” Gamora asks drily, “you weren’t waiting for me, were you, Yondu?”

Yondu just smirks and keys in the coordinates of their ship.

They’re at the halfway point when their little pod shakes violently and Yondu curses, his hands flying to the controls. He yells something that her translator chip has trouble with and Gamora’s pretty sure it’s absolutely vulgar in Centaurian.

“What’s wrong?” She shouts, grabbing onto the seat harness. He doesn’t have to reply because she spots the forming rip in space, and through it pours the temporal asteroid belt. Gamora suddenly understands why the Corans do not have spaceships despite their advanced technology.

“Hang on to somethin’, girlie. Things're 'bout to get rough!" Yondu hollers over the loud creaking of the metal pod around them.

 _Sneaky assholes, those Xandarians,_ Gamora thinks before they make a sharp downward plummet and everything goes dark.

 

* * *

 

Yondu is nowhere in sight when Gamora wakes. The remaining pieces of her half of the pod are still warm to the touch. She’s bruised and dirty but hasn’t sustained any serious injuries from the crash. The terrane beneath her boots is made up of fine grainy white sand, and Gamora suspects they are no longer on _Cora III_ when she spots the monstrous hive-like mountain behind her.

Her suspicions are confirmed when a flock of massive insectoids clear the dunes, their heavy wings sending the fine flecks into a whirlwind of sand. Gamora pulls out Nebula’s knife and braces for the attack, but there’s a familiar piercing whistle and something bright red streaks past her ear, bringing the strong scent of fire and ozone.

“Need a hand, girlie?” Yondu’s grinning face appears atop the rocky ledge behind Gamora. She scowls up at him and scales the cliffside with her bare hands in seconds. He raises an impressed eyebrow and pockets the arrow after wiping it clean on a nearby rock.

“What now?” Gamora asks as they both peer down at the dead creatures.

“We find a way to contact the ship,” Yondu replies, patting the communicator strapped to his hip. He turns to her, “think you can do that a couple of more times?”

Gamora follows his gaze up into the many caves located in the cliffside. She sighs and gets to climbing.

 

* * *

 

“Quill’d better find us,” Yondu mutters when the light on their communicator turns green, “or I’mma gut ‘im and feed ‘im to my new recruits.”

Gamora studies his rough profile and asks after a pause, “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” Yondu doesn’t bother glancing at her. Gamora follows him deeper into the empty cavern.

“Threaten to eat him when you clearly won't,” She clarifies.

To her surprise, Yondu laughs, the sound echoing loudly in the darkness, “have you seen Quill? The only way to toughen that pile of putty up is to keep ‘im scared for his life.”

Gamora stares at the Ravager captain’s broad back and imagines him shoving a tear-streaked Peter away from him, dangling the little boy over his ravenous crew and threatening to kill him. But despite all that he’s been through, deep down Peter is still that wide-eyed little boy who loves too easily. Unlike her, he’s still a dreamer and a romantic at heart.

“I don’t think you've succeeded,” Gamora tells him.

Yondu shoots her an irritated look, “Quill’s still alive an’ kickin’, ain’t he?”

She supposes that is all parents can hope for their children. It feels odd, thinking of Yondu as a father-figure. She knows Peter still loves him despite their constant bickering. Gamora cannot speak the same for Thanos. _What does it feel like_ , she wonders, _to always have that one person in the entire galaxy who would drop everything to come to your aid whenever you need it?_

Perhaps it is why Peter has the stupid habit of never watching his own back, knowing that he has Yondu to do it for him. Gamora doesn’t understand their relationship any more than when she’d first met Quill, when he’d spoke about how Yondu had threatened to eat him. Now Peter repeats the same words with a strange hint of pride in his voice.

“We should be safe in here for now,” Yondu drops down to sit on a flat piece of rock. He turns those red eyes on Gamora and asks gruffly, “you bring any supplies?”

She pulls out her weapons and he snorts, tossing her a small package from his overcoat. Gamora unwraps it to reveal a water pod and a compressed food bar.

“Eat that if you’re hungry. We could be here for a while.”

Gamora doesn’t. Instead, she asks, “why did you decide to keep him?”

Yondu’s eyes slit open, “keep who?”

“Peter.”

He groans, “what the hell, girlie? An’ here I thought you were the least chatty of the lot.”

“I know you didn’t decide to keep a Terran child because he had the potential to steal stuff from tight spaces.”

“How the fuck would you know, missy?”

“I just do, Yondu.” Gamora says and he must’ve heard the desperation in her voice because he drops all pretenses of resting and turns those hard red eyes on her.

“I ain’t the hero Quill’s been sproutin’ his big ol’ mouth off to everybody,” Yondu snarls, anger rising, “if that’s what yer askin’. Don’t need nobody to start ruinin’ my reputation.”

“He didn’t say you were a hero,” Gamora replies, “but he did say you were an ok dad.”

Yondu snorts, “boy don’t know nothin’.”

Gamora bites down the angry retort burning in her throat and walks over to sit by the mouth of the cave, her back to Yondu. The four suns are setting in the distance, and the sky of their mysterious planet has turned an incandescent red.

“I found out what he was doin’ to ‘em.”

Gamora takes a deep breath, still resolutely facing away from the Ravager captain inside the cave. There’s a self-deprecating laugh and Yondu continues.

“I suspected he was up to somethin’ after the second one. Ya just don’t look at yer kid like the way Ego did, like they's fuckin’ cargo. Things, not live beings. I could see it in his eyes,” He takes a rasping breath, “but I was greedy, ambitious, and a fuckin’ coward, so I turned a blind eye and kept on deliverin’ ‘em like lambs to the slaughter.”

“What was different about Quill?” Gamora asks quietly.

Yondu’s laugh sounds pained when he says, “idiot boy asked me if I was his daddy, ’s the first thing he said. Spoutin’ some nonsense about his ma tellin’ ‘im his daddy came from the stars or some shit.”

Gamora smiles a little at that.

“Kicked me in the balls when I told ‘im no,” Yondu says, sounding almost proud.

“He really is an idiot,” She shakes her head.

Yondu chuckles, “finally somethin’ we agree on, girlie.”

“Boy's got spunk ’n ‘im, though," He mutters, “showed me what it was like to have a fuckin’ spine.”

There’s so much self-loathing in his voice. Gamora chances a peek at the Centaurian captain. Yondu’s staring off into space, his expression morose.

“I ain’t never done any good, but Quill turned out ok, I guess.”

“He was lucky to have you,” The words slip out without her permission and he blinks at her, gobsmacked. Gamora feels her face heat up when Yondu guffaws.

“Aww, hell. Ya hit yer head on the way down or somethin’?” He asks, gasping from the laughter and clutching his ribs. “Lucky to have me. I fuckin’ kidnapped ‘im. In case ya forgot, missy.”

“At least you didn't slaughter his family in front of his eyes,” Gamora snaps, standing suddenly in a flurry of leather and metal, “at least you didn't torture him and pit him against other children each week and force him to still call you father!”

The amusement had faded from his eyes, and she's struggling to breath past the constricting weight around her chest when she finishes vomiting forth all her pent-up frustrations and anger. 

“Girlie,” Yondu starts, his voice cautious.

Gamora runs from the cave without another word. She’s grateful he doesn’t try to follow.

 

* * *

 

“Quill’s probably the luckiest bastard on this side of the freakin’ galaxy,” Rocket had once said to Gamora after a night of drinking and gambling on a tiny planet in the W3a system. She hadn’t agreed with him until a few nights ago when she’d seen Quill floating out there in the coldness of space, the old blue bastard he’d cursed about on and off for the last three years cradled in his arms.

Turns out, Peter’s got a pretty decent dad after all.

Turns out, the only commonality they’d shared hadn’t been there after all.

A part of her is terrified that Peter’s just going to go back to the Ravagers and leave their little dysfunctional group because as much as she likes to bitch about him, the Guardians would not be the same without him. Another part of her, a deeply repressed part, feels jealous of what Peter has. For all of his foot-stomping and melodrama, Peter’s still got a home and a family to go back to, no matter how much of an asshole Yondu is.

Gamora has nothing left.

Nothing except for Peter and the Guardians.

It’s dark when she finally drags her exhausted body back to the cave. The temperature had dropped considerably and Gamora’s teeth are chattering when she sneaks up to the mouth of the cave, hoping against hope that Yondu had fallen asleep.

“Girlie, that you?” A voice calls out. Gamora’s shoulders slump.

“Come ‘ere,” Yondu says, and she approaches warily, her arms wrapped around her freezing body. She doesn’t expect him to pat the space next to him and say, “sit.”

“What?”

“Just do as I say,” He rolls his eyes long-sufferingly.

Gamora sits stiffly, still eyeing him like a rabid dog that’s about to bite. Yondu mutters something that sounds like an insult and wraps one warm heavy arm around her shoulders and draws Gamora against him. She freezes.

Underneath the thick Ravager’s coat, he feels like a furnace. Gamora relaxes against her will, skin tingling as the feeling returns to her limbs. Yondu’s rough stubble grazes her temple and tickles that spot deep within her aching heart.

“Ain’t never had a daughter before,” He confesses after a pause.

Gamora swallows thickly. Yondu's arm feels like a secure anchor that’s keeping her from flying apart into a million tiny pieces and breathing comes a bit easier.

“Get some rest,” He mutters without looking at her, “I’ll watch over ya.”

So Gamora does.

 

* * *

 

She hasn’t dreamed of her parents in a long long time, so long that she’d forgotten what their faces looked like.

 _My mother’s eyes were green,_ Gamora thinks when she wakes, _the color of life and spring._

Yondu’s discreetly trying to wriggle some circulation back into his leg and muttering sarcastically under his breath. She almost smiles, her eyes still closed and her arm wrapped loosely around his leather-clad torso.

“Ya can stop pretendin’ to be asleep, girlie,” Yondu grunts after another minute, “can’t feel my ass no more, thanks to you.”

Gamora opens her eyes to Yondu’s sneering face. Sighing, she detaches herself from him and stretches, working the kinks loose and frowning at the unexpected ache in her side.

“ _Really, Yondu?”_ Gamora asks when she fishes out the kitten ornament from his breast pocket along with a slim rectangular item that turns out to be an actual book made from real paper. She squints down at the alien squiggles. “What’s this?”

“Picked it up for Quill,” Yondu mutters, avoiding her gaze, “vendor said it was from Terra.”

“Does he even know how to read?” Gamora asks, genuinely curious. Yondu cackles and allows her to pull him to his feet.

“Ya can ask ‘im yerself,” He says, jerking his chin at the cave entrance. Gamora cocks her head to the side and listens for the hum of an engine. Her face breaks into a wide smile when she catches the sound of the familiar vibrations coming from above. Gamora grabs Yondu’s arm and pulls him toward the cave opening just as light floods their dark shelter.

“That’s my boy,” Yondu murmurs under his breath, the ship reflected like the starry sky in his crimson eyes.

Gamora waves up at the small vessel and seconds later, Quill, in his full getup, drops down from the ship along with Nebula.

“You two are idiots!” He yells the moment his mask retracts, his pale face tight with worry. Peter crosses over to Yondu in two quick strides and Gamora runs at her sister, throwing her arms around a surprised Nebula who stumbles sideways.

“You have a fuckin’ fever, old man! What the hell?! I leave you alone for one day!” Peter shouts, and Gamora pulls back with a frown.

“What?” She asks.

“He’s abnormally warm, Gamora, that’s what a fever means,” Peter snaps, pulling Yondu aside and pawing at his uniform. “Quit struggling, ya senile old fool and let me check you for injuries!”

“You were injured?! Why didn’t you tell me, Yondu?” Gamora demands, also crowding the annoyed Ravager captain against the cave wall. Nebula frowns and wanders over to join the angry duo.

“I ain’t injured, ya dumbasses!” He’s still trying to deny it, but Peter sucks in a sharp breath when his fingers come away coated in blood. His whole face darkens.

“Ok, that is it. You are done going on missions, old man,” Peter growls, “see if I ever let you step foot outside of command again."

“I cannot believe you didn’t tell me!” Gamora yells, equally pissed off.

Yondu stares at the two of them as if they’ve gone completely mad. “What the hell are ya yellin’ at me for, girlie?”

“What’s taking you guys so long? Y’all havin’ a fuckin’ tea party down there or somethin’? Hurry the fuck up!” Rocket’s impatient voice blasts from the ship’s speakers, interrupting their delightful little confrontation.

Before Yondu can whistle for his arrow, Gamora bends down, snakes an arm around his knees and swoops Yondu cleanly off his feet. Peter chokes back an incredulous laugh when she carries the struggling Centaurian captain bridal style to the edge of the cave opening and barks up at Rocket to "lower the goddamn ship!”

They ignore Yondu’s pissed-off yowls of _“Mutiny! This is fuckin’ mutiny, I tell ya!”_ and toss him straight into the med-bay as soon as they get back to the mothership.

 

* * *

 

“Gamora…” Peter says, tentatively setting a hand on Gamora’s tense shoulder, “he’s gonna be alright.”

She turns the brunt of her scowl on him and Quill actually backs off a couple of steps, his expression cautious and his hands held up in a placating manner.

“I know,” She growls.

“Ok, good, it’s just,” He bites his lip before leaning in and whispering, “you look like you want to charge in there and gut him with a blunt knife.”

Her eyes flash darkly and Quill hurriedly takes a few more steps back. “Or not. I’m sorry, please don’t kill me and toss my body into the third waste removal chute from the left, Gamora.”

Before she can comment on his oddly specific method of death, a rough scratchy voice calls from within sickbay, “in here, girlie, I need to talk to ya.”

Peter raises a brow at her. Gamora frowns back at him. They stare at each other, silently trying to communicate their bewilderment across.

“I know yer out there,” Yondu yells.

Gamora reluctantly walks into medical. Yondu’s propped up against the headboard of the bio-bed with three pillows that look like they’d been taken from three different owners, his chest heavily bandaged.

“Close the door, missy,” He orders.

She does as she is told.

“Sit down,” Yondu pats the edge of the bio-bed. Gamora sits reluctantly.

He glances at her sideways, “ya think ya can do me a favor?”

“What favor?”

“Slip this to Quill without ‘im findin’ out?” He pulls out the stupid hardcover book from beneath the pillows.

She stands indignantly, “give it to him yourself, old man!”

To her surprise, Yondu’s face splits into a crooked grin as he peers at her knowingly. “Old man, huh?”

"You might not be his biological father, but you are an idiot, just like your stupid kid Quill!” Gamora flushes angrily, her hands balling into shaking fists.

“I know,” Yondu says, “but we got ya watchin’ our backs, don’t we?”

And that one sentence opens the floodgates.

Gamora has not cried for years, not a single tear shed since Thanos murdered her parents in front of her eyes, but she finds herself unable to choke back the body-wracking sobs now. Yondu sighs irritably and opens his arms.

“Come 'ere,” He says roughly. 

She goes, crams her wet face against his warm neck and inhales the sour scent of sweat, dirt, and blood and thinks of-

_Home._

“’S gonna be ok,” Yondu murmurs, rubbing her back awkwardly. He holds her until she gets the ugly sobs back under control, only wincing a little when she blows her nose loudly on his bedsheets.

Gamora takes a few deep breathes to compose herself before aiming a piercing glare at the old space pirate.

“You ever speak a work of this to anyone, I will make sure no one ever finds your body,” She hisses fiercely.

Yondu grins, his metal-capped teeth glowing like liquid silver in the dim light of the infirmary.

“Girl after my own heart,” He says proudly.

 

* * *

 

Gamora used to think she had the world all figured out, that Thanos was evil, Nebula hated her guts, Quill was the galaxy’s biggest idiot, and that Yondu was as competent a father as Thanos.

Turns out, she’s only half right: Thanos is still evil and Quill is definitely an idiot, but the rest…Gamora’s not so sure anymore.

She watches from the doorway as Peter sits down eagerly on the edge of Yondu’s bed, his new present clutched reverently in both hands. Yondu kicks at him half-heartedly but his eyes soften grudgingly when they pass over his boy to land on Gamora. She smiles past the still tender ache in her chest when Yondu inclines his head minutely at her before turning his attention back to Quill.

When she turns to leave, she finds the rest of the Guardians standing in the hallway. Nebula clears her throat and asks stiffly, “so are we getting out of here?”

Her sister’s wearing the new wrist guards when Gamora reaches out and laces their fingers together.

“In a few more days,” She finds herself murmuring.

The tension eases from Rocket’s shoulders at her words and when Groot tugs on his whiskers, he bends down so that the little tree can hop off and run over to join the duo in sickbay. They watch in silence as Groot climbs the bio-bed and settles contentedly in Peter’s lap, his eyes widening with excitement when Peter cracks open the illustrated book.

 ** _"And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye...”_** Peter reads, his steady voice washing over them.

Gamora leans her weight into her sister’s side. Nebula does not pull away this time.

Yes, they can afford to stay a little while longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book Yondu picked up was a copy of The Little Prince, by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, which I thought was a perfect fit for Peter, the little Star Prince. 
> 
> I feel like Gamora would be even more protective of her parent than Peter. Poor Yondu.
> 
> I keep saying that there might be more, but this is all the story I have to tell for now. If there is more, it'll be after mid-June. 
> 
> So thank you guys for reading and commenting! Much love!


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